Tag Archives: poems for children

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A Bunyip Tale

 

A schoolboy trudged along one day

late for school but on his way.

 

Dreamily became aware

of the much polluted air.

 

Rotting slime and yukky sludge

tadpole eggs and oozing mud.

 

The smell came from a bunyip near

stalking very quietly in the rear.

 

‘For ages now,’ the bunyip boomed,

‘beneath the mud I’ve been entombed.’

 

‘Freed at last by recent rains

I’m suffering dreadful hunger pains.’

 

‘Although against the usual rule,

I’m very fond of boys from school.’

 

Its jaws opened in a wide green grin,

Drooling at what could be welcomed in.

 

‘Please dine with me,’ it begged at last,

‘And help me break this dreamtime fast.’

 

This offer was declined with haste

the schoolboy lacked the time to waste.

 

Suggested instead some gumtips tender

followed by trees and a broken fender.

 

The bunyip took obedient heed

and peacefully settled down to feed.

 

It ate its way through twenty trees

forty cans and eighty bees.

 

But because it wouldn’t masticate

indigestion was its fate.

 

It moaned and groaned in dreadful pain

and swore never to eat as much again.

 

It writhed and rolled and turned bright green

the sorriest bunyip ever seen.

 

With legitimate excuse for being late,

the schoolboy reached the schoolyard gate.

 

Arrived in class with pleased relief

but faced his teacher’s disbelief.

 

‘The bunyip legend needs no mention

fifty lines and another detention.’

 

But ever after as a definite rule

that schoolboy was in time for school.

 

And always it was his guilty fear

that something stalking in the rear

 

Very vengeful and wide awake

suffering dreadful stomach ache

 

Still hunted for the tender treat

of a tardy schoolboy ripe to eat.

 

Margaret Pearce

 

  • A version of this poem was published  HOUSE OF SPROUTS Vol 1. Issue 3, July 87 and in Prints Rhyming Anthology 2015

 

Poem of the Day

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Summer

 

The sun is warm, the fish are biting

Snapper, squid and shoals of whiting

Ice-cream jingles sound inviting –

Summer’s on its way.

 

The breeze is up, the current’s running

Tourists bare their legs for sunning

Seagulls stealing chips are cunning –

Summer’s on its way.

 

The sky is bright, the waves are rolling

Zinc-nosed lifeguards are patrolling

Cricket-crazy kids are bowling –

Summer’s here  – let’s play!

Jill McDougall
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #47

poetry-prompt-47

Poem of the Day

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Sometimes . . .

 

Sometimes in the sunshine,

Sometimes in the shade;

Hiking through a forest,

Marching on parade;

Sometimes seeking shelter,

When the sun is hot;

Sometimes craving sunshine,

When the weather’s not.

 

Sometimes we are wanting

Warmth upon our skin;

Other times we’re wearing

What can keep warmth in.

When the weather changes,

We start changing too.

So it seems the weather

Tells us what to do!

 Monty Edwards
  •  Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #47

poetry-prompt-47

Monty says: Thinking about sunshine, I began reflecting on how our varied experience of it constantly affects us. Using brief couplets seemed to underline the changeable nature of the weather and our response to it.

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Sun-Song

(after Charles Causley)

I am the song that lifts the sky

I am the earth that flames the fire

I am the cloud that calls the flood

I am the stream that draws the sun

I am the tide that drinks the moon

I am the air that sings the leaf

I am the bird that stirs the branch

I am the tale that flies the word

I am the note that spreads the song

 

Katherine Gallagher
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #47

poetry-prompt-47

Katherine said: Charles Causley, the Cornish poet, was  a wonderful children’s poet. His poem (that inspired my poem) is full of music.

 

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An Orange Egg

 

I’m sure that I can eat an orange egg.

You do not have to plead. You needn’t beg.

I do not think that I have ever tried

An orange that’s been boiled, poached or fried.

Nor have I yet consumed an egg that’s raw,

Been neatly peeled, and sliced up into four.

 

An orange placed on toasted sourdough

Is not a taste sensation that I know.

I haven’t eaten egg as marmalade.

I’m not convinced that it would make the grade.

I know! I’ll mix the two into a goop,

And eat them as an eggy, orange soup!

 

© Stephen Whiteside
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #45

poetry-prompt-45

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Party Preparation

 

I say to my mirror: “Well, how do I look?”

The mirror replies: “You use your two eyes.”

“No, you don’t understand! Tell me how I appear.”

“You come through the door and then you are here.”

“But mirror of mine, tell me what you reflect.”

“Whatever’s in front of me, as you’d expect.”

“So, mirror of mine, have you no more to say?”

“Only: ‘Why stand and stare? There’s a party today!'”

 

Monty Edwards
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #37

poetry-prompt-37

Monty says: The desire to look  good for a special occasion is common to children and adults alike. In this, the mirror is an indispensable tool, but we still have to make the judgments ourselves.

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SNAIL TRIAL

I love to look at snails,

‘cos they’re slimy little things.

I like to see their silver trails

on the grass’s wrinkly fringe.

 

I love the eyes that vanish,

when I poke them with a stick.

I love the way their spotted shells

crunch from just a little kick.

 

Mummy says that’s naughty

and I shouldn’t be so cruel,

but she poisons her whole vegie patch,

who does she think she fools?

 

My sister, she won’t touch them,

‘cos they make her skin go crawly

so I stuffed one down her neck

and now she feels quite poorly.

 

Still, I’d love to have a snail

as a very special pet

I’d take it to the letterbox

so it could eat the mail.

 

I’d set it in a gutter,

on a leaf made as a boat.

Mummy told me not to,

‘cos it will never float.

 

I wouldn’t let it try to eat

my nanna’s pretty blouses,

or let it make a silvery trail,

upon my grandpa’s trousers.

 

I said I’d wash it in the sink,

I know it likes the water,

but Mummy said she didn’t think

that I had better oughta.

 

I’d like to take it into bed

to watch it slowly slither

but Mummy told me if I do,

I might just wake up dead.

(and not from the snail!)

 

I’ve learnt it’s cruel to poke snails’ eyes,

it’s mean to crush their shells.

So, what I’ll do is watch them trail

through Mummy’s garden patch,

but write a sign to warn them

that they may have met their match.

Alix Phelan

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Picnic

 

Will you come to lunch with me,

Upon the grass, beneath the tree?

Will you bring a mat for three,

And picnic ‘neath the sky?

 

Yes, I’ll come to picnic there.

The grass is green, the day is fair,

And then we’ll play without a care,

My two best friends and I.

 

I’ll bring the fruit and fairy bread,

Cool drinks and cups and (as you’ve said)

A mat with checks so bright and red,

To sit on ‘neath the sky.

 

We’ll feast and laugh and climb and run

Our picnic day will be such fun!

We’ll spin cartwheels and when we’re done

We’ll watch the clouds go by.

 

Then when the sun is sinking low

And stars are warming up their glow

Fold up the mat, it’s time to go

We’ll bid a fond goodbye.

 

Until we meet again my friend,

We’ll bid a fond goodbye.

Lynelle Kendall

Poetry Prompt #24

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Tegan the Vegan

 

Tegan the vegan

Won’t eat meat

She says fauna are friends

Not food we should eat

If it runs or blows bubbles

Brays, baas or moos

It‘s not destined for dinner

Or handbags or shoes

 

Tegan the vegan

Won’t eat meat

She can’t stand the idea

That her food once had feet

She munches on mushrooms

Scoffs spinach and greens

Eats vegies galore

Gobbles all the good beans

 

Tegan the Vegan

Won’t eat meat

She moves to the rhythm

Of her own silver beet

And while it’s not understood

By all those she holds dear

Her tummy is full

And her conscience is clear

Sioban Timmer
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #45

poetry-prompt-45

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Super Swimmer

 

Sammy the seal loves to swim in the sea.

He eats fish for breakfast and eats fish for tea.

He doesn’t much mind all their bones and their scales,

For he swallows them whole from their heads to their tails.

Then once he is full he is ready to rest

And a rock in the sun is the spot he likes best.

 

When Sammy is swimming a shark may glide past.

And that’s time for Sammy to move very fast!

For Sammy is smart and has more than a hunch

That a shark thinks a seal makes a rather nice lunch!

Since sharks have sharp teeth like the points on a saw,

They’re clearly a threat that no seal can ignore.

 

If sometimes you find him asleep on a beach,

Make sure that you keep yourself out of his reach,

For if you should rouse him and give him a fright

He may be upset and get ready to fight.

So better by far that you give him no cause,

Since though without fists, he has very strong jaws!

 

Monty Edwards
  •  Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #43

poetry-prompt-43

Monty said: I liked the alliterative possibilities of Sammy the seal for the opening line of the poem, but soon realised why I had chosen Sammy and not Sally. Not only are there seals in the area quite close to where I live, but also an opportunity shop run by Good Samaritan Industries as “Good Sammy’s” with a seal featured in their logo!